Fade
by Crystallia Silver
Summary: It's not enough to love if this feeling no longer completes the heart for which it exists. USxUK, AU setting. Warnings: Mention of suicide, character death.
1. Chapter 1

**Fade**

_Chapter 1  
_  
Pairing: Arthur Kirkland x Alfred Jones  
Rating: Τ  
Genre: Angst, AU modern day setting  
Warnings: Character death, suicide

Additional note: The story is mainly focused on Arthur's point of view. Thank you for stopping by and please review if you can.

* * *

It was clear. He would have considered himself blind if he hadn't notice the changes, even the subtle ones. When you feel close to someone and willingly dedicate effort to understand them, it's easy to recognise some alarming signs. Arthur wanted to believe that any conflict or downcast gaze he witnessed, was the reflection of a temporary phase. But as the days passed, a different reality began to unfold. A kind of dreadful truth that Arthur wanted it to be reduced into something smaller and turn out to be a stupid misunderstanding. Just a misinterpreted message. After all, all couples have their disagreements, right?

He wanted to deny or tame anything unpleasant that he saw or heard. To quieten the short misunderstandings and be patient when Alfred's continuous complaints rained on him like autumn downpours. Arthur felt kind of guilty. He was usually the one who nagged about something trivial. Not Alfred. And any complaints from the Briton usually invoked a carefree laugh from his partner or a reassuring pat on the shoulder. They never seemed to get to the cheerful male.

However, a shadow of disappointment gradually broke the usual mirth and confident determination in Alfred's eyes. It was a great blow for Arthur and a constant reminder that something wasn't right, no matter his efforts to improve their situation.

When fits of anger began to interrupt the heavily silent atmosphere, the English was impelled to confront a certain fact. No matter how much he wanted to stay with Alfred, he refused to turn into the oppressive lover who keeps who he wants by force.

Alfred meant a lot to him. He inspired Arthur to become a stronger and better person. More generous, more welcoming and open. The high-spirited man was the sunshine that always made the difference in his cloudy days. Alfred was the strength and positive energy in Arthur's life.

It was difficult to break apart. Both his heart and body craved to stay with the man to whom they belonged. But were they desired? Were they needed, or had they become just an unpleasant load? Arthur understood that it's not enough to love if this feeling no longer completes the heart for which it exists.

His Alfred wasn't so happy anymore. The bright grin on his face was often replaced by a forced smile. Their kisses left a taste of sadness. A chilly sense of unspoken incertitude lingered after nightly embraces. Alfred seemed to be more in pain than in love. The apologetic words like ' I'm sorry', 'I didn't mean to' and 'I will try next time' had become more frequent than those of adoration.

No matter how much Arthur loved him or how he treasured the dreams and plans he made with his lover, he understood that he had to let go. It was the only way to free Alfred from a bond that hurt him. The mere consideration was killing him. It wasn't easy to end what kept his heart alive. Not at all. Arthur needed to stay and fight. But any battle would have no meaning if he was supposed to be alone in it. His boyfriend had already showed signs that he wanted to secede from any further struggle.

The English knew that displaying an angry frustration wouldn't solve anything. It would be a mistake to ignore the many good moments they lived in the past as a couple. Alfred was his hero. He was also the reason why Arthur didn't abandon music. His old violin remained inside its case for ages until something about the love he shared with the American, urged him to resume practice and playing. He also began to write his own compositions and happily dedicated his best one to his lover. Even though Alfred wasn't really a fan of classical music, he once told Arthur that he thought of him as an excellent musician and didn't mind listening to him playing.

The current situation couldn't be altered by the experiences of the past. Alfred's love was as essential to Arthur as the blood that ran through his veins but if he decided to imprison it, it would wither. He could only let the love nestle and hide into his memories. The reminisce of it would become a beautiful thorn into his consciousness, but Arthur was ready to carry it as a treasure chest. As long as he was capable, he wouldn't mind the heaviness of something precious.

The empty luggage that was once forgotten in the dust of the attic, presaged a cold future. Each time Arthur put something inside, an image of his life with Alfred visited his mind, taunting him to stop packing; A road trip that seemed never-ending, nights in the house watching a movie, their first dinner in a small restaurant with a cozy atmosphere and afternoon strolls in the park... Simple moments that composed a life which Arthur held so dear.

Alfred was not forced to want the same. He might needed someone more carefree. Not a certain guy who tended to stick to programs and planning. Someone who knew how to cook delicious meals, regardless of the recipe's difficulty. The English constantly tried to improve his cooking but few were the times when he managed to impress Alfred. Very few. But above all else, Alfred needed someone who could make him smile. Those lips had to regain their old grace and get rid of those forced, upward twists that only _looked _like a smile.

He gathered most of his clothes and personal belongings. Before getting busy with the preparation of the luggage, he made sure that the bedroom's door was closed. For some reason, he didn't want Alfred to watch him packing. He wasn't sure why. Maybe he needed to avoid finding out what kind of expression would appear on the American's face once he understood that Arthur was ready to leave. Officially.

The Briton frowned and bit his lip with bitter sadness as he clearly recalled the day when he asked Alfred to break up with him. Ironically, Arthur was the one who brought up the matter first. He had no intention to wait for his boyfriend to get completely sick of him. It was a matter of pride and decency. He wouldn't ridicule or cheapen the relationship that meant everything to him by pretending that all was alright...

It was a Saturday morning and Alfred was getting ready to go out for a quick stroll. Arthur had already accepted his own weakness to utter anything about the breakup without shedding tears in front of Alfred. He didn't want it to happen so he wrote a short note instead. His message was brief and clear, '_You are free from me_'. While Alfred wasn't looking, Arthur placed the small letter into the pocket of the man's favourite bomber jacket.

He remembered how anxious and hurt he felt while waiting for his partner to come home. The two hours of Alfred's absence seemed like eons to him. He even recalled the exact place of the house where the young American found him after the walk. Arthur was sitting in the armchair of the living room- the one closest to the window. He had a book on his lap, an indication of his failed attempt to distract his mind.

He didn't stand up when the American entered the room. No, Arthur hadn't forgotten his manners. He was afraid that his legs wouldn't be able to support him once he listened to his lover's response. Deep down, he already knew what it was going to be...

Alfred stood in front of him. His face was serious. The sunlight that came from the window had wrapped him into a gentle embrace, underlining every beautiful trait that Arthur admired in him. Really, he couldn't see anyone as more beautiful than his Alfred. But the situation was difficult. Soon, this man wouldn't be _his _anymore.

"Well?" Arthur's question came out stoically and too quietly. It was almost quieter than the rustle of leaves outside. He saw how Alfred's lips formed a strained, tight line. Those lips that Arthur had kissed countless times, sometimes gently and sometimes hard.

"...I'm sorry." The reply was clear and brief. Much like the letter.

"It's okay." Another stoic utterance. Arthur's facial expression was serene but a tear that rolled down his cheek, ruined the aloof facade that he wanted to maintain. His green eyes widened in upset when Alfred moved closer with the intention to give him a comforting embrace.

Arthur rose immediately, the book fell on the floor with a soft thud, his hand stopped Alfred from touching him, and he quickly withdrew to the bedroom closing the door behind...

Right. He had withdrawn to the exact place where he currently packed for leaving.

He heard the American talking on the phone and a sense of loneliness clawed Arthur but he tried not to think about the pain. He would have to get used to it.

Unless...

The pensive male quickly blocked the upcoming thought as he checked his passport one last time. It was recently renewed and ready for use. A part of him wished it had been expired but he quickly shook off the notion. He closed the luggage and his eyes searched for the wall clock. The different time zones were going to connote the imminent change. Five hours ahead of Alfred. A difference of five hours that underlined their failure to harmonise themselves and synchronise their life.

Suddenly, Arthur felt so foolish for believing that one day they could get married and become an official couple, recognised by the law. Some States in America had established the matrimonial union between people of the same gender, so it could have been possible.

He gripped the handle of the luggage. The case was heavy and so was his heart. He stopped for an instant and looked back at the bed where he used to rest and make love with Alfred all these nights. It was difficult but he tried not give in to jealousy when the prospect of someone else filling the empty side, taunted him.

Alfred's voice sounded clearer as Arthur left the bedroom and walked across the corridor. He peeked at the kitchen where his former lover was talking on the phone, but he avoided to let his gaze linger there too much. Remembering those mornings when they enjoyed breakfast together and discussed their daily plans, was too painful to handle at the moment.

"Hey, Arthur!"

Alfred hung up when the English passed by the kitchen. "Are you leaving now?" He asked and approached nearer.

Arthur's mind was too clouded with thoughts to discern the exact mood behind the younger man's question. He blinked and stared back a little wearily. If Alfred really wanted him to stay, he would rush at him and hug him tightly.

"Yes, I scheduled my flight for today. Didn't I tell you?" He replied calmly.

"Oh..."

It hurt Arthur to gaze at the man whom he knew so well. The English was going to miss all these subtle expressions which often communicated what Alfred couldn't word sometimes. He was bound to miss his love and everything about him.

How do you say goodbye to the person that means the world to you? How do you convey your feelings one last time, without creating the impression that you seek to cause guilt to the other? Arthur didn't know. For that reason, he chose to express all that he needed in a way that was more comfortable to him.

"There is something I want to give you before I go." He showed Alfred a small cd folder. "Do you remember the musical piece that I wrote, the one that you liked very much? I recorded it here and made sure it was my best performance. Please accept it."

Alfred seemed moved when he took the last gift. His eyes were thoughtful as they remained fixed on the item for a few seconds. Then, he gazed at Arthur. It was a brief moment that somehow granted them a glimpse of their past with both its pleasant and sad colours. A life and a time that they once chose to share. A love that they only had for each other.

"Thank you, I will listen to your music often. Promise." Alfred finally said.

"Good." It was a quiet answer. His voice didn't tremble, his eyes didn't water but his heart was breaking. Arthur was caught by surprise when Alfred suddenly leaned forward to embrace him.

"I'm sorry, Arthur...I really am."

"Please, don't say 'I'm sorry' again. There is no reason." He sighed and attempted not to hug the American in return. If he did, he wouldn't ever want to let go... "Take care, alright?" It was a gentle whisper. "I am leaving because I don't want your smile or your dreams to fade. It's the happiness you emit that drew my heart close to yours. And I won't be the one to crush it."

Arthur moved away and noticed that his former partner looked concerned. This worry wouldn't last long. The American would surely prove capable of pulling through the breakup. He was capable of many things. This couldn't be an exception. No way.

But the Briton was unsure of his own strength and how much he could endure. Each step away from the one he loved was a tough challenge.

"Goodbye, Alfred." It wasn't easy to say it, but somehow he did.


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's note**: I am honestly sorry for the unexpectedly long delay. Real life issues prevented me from completing this story and writing fics in general.

I would like to thank the people who kindly took the time to post a review, followed and/or added my first USUK fanfic to their favourites. It really means a lot. I feel grateful to any reader who decided to give my work a try. You are all amazing, thank you.

This is the second chapter that completes the fic. Again, sorry for the delay and I appreciate your patience.

**Fade**

**_Chapter 2_**

Pairing: Arthur Kirkland x Alfred Jones  
Rating: Τ  
Genre: Angst, AU modern day setting  
Warnings: Character death, suicide

* * *

The noise at the airport proved somewhat comforting. It distracted Arthur from his troubled thoughts and inner strain. When his eyes scanned the list of departures, the word 'start' flashed on his mind for some reason. The prospect of a new beginning opened up a path that the English found discouraging and unwanted. Not hopeful or promising.

He almost couldn't feel his legs as he walked to the gate. The sun was blinding, but every time he lowered his gaze to avoid the strong light, he also had to fight the need to look back and see the distance he had covered. The pain of separation and absence increased with each step.

Arthur already longed for the small things he enjoyed in his relationship like the carefree laughter of his love or the soft breathing that tickled his neck when he lied next to Alfred. Once the plane set off, a sensation of defeat and despair gripped his mind.

He fell asleep for a couple of hours. When he woke up, he seriously wondered if he really wanted a new life without the person he loved. He didn't care if the future was going to be more successful. The heartache wouldn't stop. What Arthur needed was an _end_. Not an unknown road that led to an uncertain destination.

The silent thought made him feel cold at first but also gave him a strange sense of peace. Anything that was still capable of bringing a smile to his face would lose its positive influence on him sooner or later. And then, the determination to endure solitude would be pointless. A battle with no purpose is a curse.

Music was his last harbour. It is said that pain can trigger great inspirations but if Arthur gave free rein to it, his compositions would only reflect and recycle the pain of loss and the bittersweet emotion of an old love. Unavoidably, his very escape would trap him into a constant reliving of the past.

He knew that he would collapse slowly and painfully if he continued to live. That's what he thought when he finally reached his homeland. It was post midnight and the quietness was deafening- unlike in the city where he used to live with Alfred.

Returning back to his lonely house seemed to be the only option. Once, he had so many choices and decisions to make. And he wasn't alone; most of these involved Alfred and the life they had together.

The house didn't feel so inviting. It felt as though it wasn't his own. Its scent and atmosphere were unfamiliar, the furniture looked much older and the curtains too heavy. Arthur felt like a stranger as he stepped inside. Like a sad intruder with no real home.

There was something that kept him on his feet. An odd _hope _that urged him to cling to life even though there wasn't much to live for. He couldn't understand this feeling and he thought of it as potentially deceitful. If Arthur adhered to life, this would inevitably prompt him to cling to the possibility of being with his Alfred again. But the chances weren't on his side. He knew that well.

Each day and hour of unsubdued hope was breaking Arthur apart. There were things that kept his mind and body busy and active, but in the end he always found himself missing his beloved. He hadn't heard from the energetic American since the breakup and sometimes, he caught himself dying to know how he fared. But would this kind of awareness offer him the strength he needed in order to move on?

The English decided that it was better not to know who made Alfred smile now, who slept next to him or accompanied him in his long journeys. Even if he wasn't dating anyone at the moment, someone would eventually change that. Arthur hurt with the mere consideration. At times, he even broke out wailing because of it.

He had grown tired of the tears that fell incessantly across his face. They didn't seem to dry. He had grown too weary of crying himself to sleep. Now and then, Arthur wondered how his heart managed to continue beating. Regardless of the the answer, it was a sign that he was still alive...

It was the hope of hearing from Alfred that kept him alive. This small possibility that he would call and ask Arthur to give their relationship a second chance. His hope remained relentless for a long time but somehow, Arthur managed to cripple it. He didn't want it. Because it made him feel like a fool. And it pained him immensely. Like a knife that pierces deeper and deeper into a heart.

Even the most neat and fancy clothes he owned, felt like worn rags on his body. Arthur always enjoyed being attentive to his appearance but now he hardly cared. He walked around the house wearing old clothes, haunted by memories of a life that seemed like a distant dream. The floor was always cold under his feet. There wasn't a fluffy carpet like the one in Alfred's apartment. Each room was silent, lacking the sounds of a video game or a sports broadcast on TV- Alfred enjoyed both. The Briton couldn't hear the mirthful whistling of his former boyfriend whenever the cheerful male put those frozen beef burgers into the microwave or when he sang off-key during a bath. And he hated whoever was there to enjoy these simple moments while Arthur was miles away, cold and broken under an endlessly cloudy sky.

He had forgotten the warmth of the bright daylight that caressed his naked skin when he used to wake up in the same bed with Alfred. His body couldn't recall much of the rush and passion during the happier days; it was a wreck and his soul longed to be somewhere that it wouldn't need to be subjugated to a repetitive numbness...

Only a final and definite end to this torment could open the path to a liberating peace. The choice stood in front of the heartbroken man in the shape of antidepressant pills and a cup of his favourite black tea. His lungs, those two muscles that composed the shelter of his breathing, wouldn't stand a a chance against an overdose. He was going to put his breath and mind into sleep. The hope would follow and the pain would end.

The window of his bedroom was blurry and steamy because of the city's humid atmosphere. The thick clouds that cast their shadow over the River Thames presaged an imminent rainfall. Arthur took a moment to reflect over his life before knowing Alfred. It was like the weather in London- predictable with a fixed, unchanging pattern. And then he stepped into a sunlit world of many surprises. He didn't believe that he would fall in love but he did. He never imagined that he could feel so committed to someone but he found completion in their bond. And he certainly didn't know that one day he was going to choose death over a life that was not becoming of him; one without love.

The unknown that lied on the other side wasn't as frightful as the futile hope that pushed him so near to utter madness. Arthur would close his eyes. And a dream of Alfred and him being together would emerge to the surface of his dying consciousness.

There was a place where he could love Alfred F. Jones freely. Without pain, self-pity or fear.

And this place lied beyond a life full of broken bridges and fading dreams...


End file.
